


officially yours

by a5xa7 (CastelloFlare)



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Gladers, M/M, Minewtbang2k15, The Glade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastelloFlare/pseuds/a5xa7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, Newt couldn't believe it.</p><p> </p><p>Contribution for minewtbang2k15 on Tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	officially yours

At first, Newt couldn't believe it.

Sure, it could happen; after all it was natural for the body to move in so many ways. What was weird was how everyone, in their own somewhat unelegant yet merry way, was _dancing_ , and in synchronized and apparently practiced movements. Over to his left, Newt could even see Thomas guiding a flustered Gally how to do the square dance. Every Glader had at least one paper flower in their hair.

Music -- at least the Glade's brand of music -- was 'played' at a corner with Alby at the helm, using whatever was available, such as makeshift drums, Frypan's, uhh well, frypans, beans inside cups, and the like. Whoever directed the music was a genius, because the sound that they produced _actually made sense_.

The steady and quite catchy beat of their DIY musical instruments guided the gladers around Newt in their dance, shadows overlapping each other as everyone circled around the raging bonfire. Newt somehow found himself in the middle of it, but he was not alone. Teresa, garbed in something white and looking so immaculate, was standing in front of the fire, and in her hands were two rings made out of paper flowers that she and Thomas had made out of muscle memory.

Before Newt could formulate a question -- like _When and how did everyone find the time to practice without him knowing? Who spearheaded the dance moves? And who knew Chuck was such a natural at dancing?_ , Teresa had walked over to him, a big smile on her face, and on her tiptoes she gently placed one of the flower rings on his head. It fit snuggly on his wavy golden locks.

Suddenly everyone broke out in claps and cheers -- still immersed in dance -- and they were all looking behind Newt.

For some reason, his breath hitched. He felt a lump beginning to form in his throat, and his eyes were beginning to water, despite not catching the floating wisps of flame and ash.

For as long as he can remember, there has always been that one constant by his side, that in their short time together their souls had somehow melded into one -- or they might have always been one, but it took a few disparities here and there for them to see it -- and he knew, even before he turned around, just who it was lovingly gazing at him in the light of the fire.

Minho stood there, face cleaner than usual, the spikes of his hair meticulously arranged, and in his hands was a boquet of paper flowers, some folded not as neatly as the others -- apparently those were his. Newt felt his smile could melt him faster than any fire ever could. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, nothing else but the two of them existed.

Minho slowly walked over to Newt, never breaking eye contact with him, even as he bowed slightly to let Teresa crown him with the other flower ring. Then Newt understood. He chuckled, and he was probably smiling like a big sappy idiot, but it didn't matter.

"I'm not sorry for being so shucking sappy, because you won't say you're actually a sucker for these things. Anyway, I'll get you real flowers next time," Minho winked. Newt gazed into his eyes for a bit longer before shaking his head, still smiling.

"I didn't know you actually proposed to me somewhere along the way. I mean, isn't there some sort of bloody procedure to this?" He grinned as he took the boquet, and Minho's hands along with it.

"Come on, we've always been kind of married." Minho smiled back. It was true; any vows they had, they'd already exchanged and conveyed to each other ages ago. Minho kissed one of his hands. "I just wanted to make it official that you're mine, and I'm yours."

"Kiss him, you shank!" Someone yelled, and everyone erupted in excitement. Somehow the dance had taken a turn into freestyle, and all the Gladers were surprisingly so much in their dancing shoes.

Minho looked at Teresa, a knowing look on both their faces. Then, with tears glistening in her eyes, she said, "You may now kiss your husband."

They've kissed so many times before, in so many ways and in so many places, both out in the open and even more intensely when they were just alone with each other. This time, however, the kiss felt deeper and more passionate in its chasteness, and tasted of the wonderful promise of facing the future together with Minho. Newt couldn't help but smile against Minho's lips.

That night in the Glade, paper flowers flew in the air.


End file.
